Folks who believe in the existence of ghosts (and that’s a little more than half of the population here in the U.S.) have told me that when these spirits make earthly appearances, they like to visit what are referred to as “high-energy” sites, places like historic battlefields and majestic old theaters. They believe the wide range of emotions that were felt and expressed in those places produced energy that lingers still, energy that provides the life breath for these restless souls.

I can’t say that I’ve ever seen a ghost.  I also can’t say that I haven’t.  How would I really know?  But I can say that for many of the same reasons, I also like to make appearances at these places.  And to that list, I will add my own example of a high-energy site, a place where every emotion would be felt and expressed many times throughout the day:  the abandoned race track.

In the summer of 2014, I took a motorcycle ride out to the address of 114th and State Streets in Omaha, the site of the old Sunset Speedway.  I had spent many a Sunday evening (and early Monday morning) here with my older brother Rob, either helping him in the pits with his #7 car or cheering for him from the stands with the rest of my family. Sunset had now been silent for fourteen years; after 43 seasons of Sunday night circle track racing, the grand old track was shuttered and locked after the final event in 2000, clearing the way for something called “Deer Creek.”  High-end housing, a private golf course, clubhouse and all of the amenities that usually accompany that sort of lifestyle were on the way.

The plans for the property were spelled out in lengthy, legal documents that dictated a highly refined order for this area.  It’s a stiff-lipped list of do’s and don’ts—mostly “don’ts.” The covenants make it absolutely clear that this development is all business: no “boat, trailer, camper…or similar chattel” can be parked outside.  There will be zero tolerance for activities involving “disturbing noises, odors or sounds.” (Is there any kind of fun that doesn’t involve at least two of those three grievances?) 

Also, just one dog per homeowner in Deer Creek.  And that canine better be able to read, as even the doghouse must adhere to a list of hard-assed covenants.

Finally, the future for this property will prohibit (among other gauche and reprehensible acts, including ownership of a potbellied pig), one last thing:  “After October 31st, 2000, no automobile racing operations shall be permitted on the Sunset property.”

And that, as they say, was that.  With a toast of a highball and a whack of a nine iron, Deer Creek was born and Sunset Speedway went gentle into that good night.

While I really didn’t know what I would find when I rode in that day, I must admit I was surprised to see that little ‘progress’ had been made over the past fourteen years. The urban sprawl that had threatened and ultimately killed off the racetrack had yet to even scratch the perimeter of the property. The outside pit area to the south was undeveloped.  Even the old “Sunset Inn” was still standing.  

Curious onlookers were not welcome, so a security fence had been erected near what was once the main spectator entrance. Its intended meaning was clear, though its effectiveness was compromised; it had been cut free from its steel posts and rolled up like a window shade, making the “No Trespassing” sign that was fastened to it an almost laughable image.  

I took a long look around the area.  There were no cars and no witnesses, at least none who looked to be a uniformed law enforcement officer.  And so I did what many of you who are reading this right now have done: I trespassed.  I crawled under the mangled fence, slipped past what had likely been the main entrance and, for the first time in years, I was back inside “Sunset Speedway, (“the home of one HUNDRED mmmmile per hour racing!”)”

And I was disappointed.  The property looked more like a forest than an old speedway.  Mother Nature toils, sometimes rapidly, sometimes slowly, but always relentlessly to repossess her property after man’s follies are cast aside and she was doing some of her best work to eradicate the old track.  Throughout the area, trees and weeds had pushed their way through the soil and the foliage had grown thick over the years.  Unless you knew what to look for, it was almost impossible to see anything that even slightly resembled circle track competition, let alone a Sunday night hot spot for thousands of race fans. 

The developers had won, I thought to myself.  “The only place to be” was now a has-been.  

And that is not how it should be.

In 2004, I produced a video titled “BackTrack”, a documentary program which explored the early days of professional motocross racing in America. I’m passionate about that sport and greatly admire the men who would come to be known as the pioneers of motocross.  They should not be forgotten. Ten years later, I stood in the infield of what was once Sunset Speedway and decided the memory of this legendary racetrack should also be preserved. 

Life gets in the way, but I eventually returned to Sunset in the fall of 2018, this time with a crew consisting of videographer Fausto Ramon and audio engineer Scott Lynam.  They are two of the very best in Omaha and selecting them was an easy choice. Another simple choice was the selection of our first interview subjects: Bob, Joe and Steve Kosiski.  Between the three of them, they garnered 23 season championships (with brother Ed adding three more) here at Sunset.

Scott outfitted each of them with a wireless lavalier microphone. Fausto moved to a spot somewhere near the middle of what used to be the front straight and I gave the Kosiski clan just three directives. Walk. Talk. Remember. 

With the setting sun once again spreading a warm, amber glow on the old racetrack, the reminiscing began, as these legendary racers entered Sunset Speedway for the first time in nearly two decades.

“This is where we used to park.”  “Here’s the spot where Jerry (Wancewicz) straddled the wall that night and drove it all the way down the front stretch!”  “Remember when they had grandstands on the other side of the track?”  Story after story.  Steve remembered a lot about the track’s history. Joe knew a little bit more than Steve. And Bob knew everything else.  

Over the next 18 months, I would shoot interviews with track owner Craig Kelley, longtime announcer Stan Cisar Jr. and many other great drivers. Some of our heroes are no longer with us, so Joyce Wrich speaks for her husband Bill.  And several participants pay tribute to Track Safety Director Speedy Hill, Sunset’s top “first responder.” The Kelley family opened up their vault of racing footage and numerous others came forward with photographs, race programs and other items that helped me assemble the final show.

With the final editing now completed, “The Only Place to Be” brings Sunset Speedway back to life once again.  It is full of wonderfully “disturbing noises, odors and sounds.” Well, maybe not odors…although when I watch it, I’m certain I can almost smell the race fuel, the hot, dripping oil and the cigarette smoke.  Broasted chicken can’t be too far away…

This racetrack, as Stan Cisar states “was a phenomenon, probably never to be duplicated.”  It was more than just a place of high energy, more than just a place for “automobile racing operations.” For thousands of race fans and for 43 years, there simply was no place like Sunset Speedway.  It was, without a doubt, the only place to be.

Kent Taylor